The Summer Fling (part 3)

After climbing the Middle and South Teton (a romp that went delightfully well) I knew that I was slowly winning over the Tetons. The more we got to know each other, the more natural it felt: careening around potholes and pulling into the Lupine Meadows trailhead, the rhythmic march up the switchbacks, the sun's golden glow rising to illuminate the peaks above. Familiarity becomes fondness, fondness becomes infatuation, and before you know it, you're in love. However, I still had yet to explore an entire end of the range, and felt the draw of the Cathedral Peaks pulling me northward. 

Mt. Owen, the 2nd tallest peak in the Tetons. 

I decided an easy solo objective would be the East Ridge of Mt. Owen. The summit view would allow me to observe the backside of Teewinot and the cold north face of the Grand, a hallowed wall that I have always dreamt of seeing up close. So, I threw the crampons, axe, food and water in my attack pack, tightened up my Guide Tennies, and began the familiar walk/sprint up the switchbacks to the trail for Amphitheater Lake. Pretty soon, I had contoured around into Glacier Gulch and was standing on the Teton Glacier, the largest remaining patch of perennial ice in the Tetons. 

Looking up a runnel on the Teton Glacier. This baby was melting fast!

Once on the Teton Glacier, the route was laid out in front of me: climb steep snow up the Koven Couloir to gain the East Ridge, then take a left and climb to the west to gain the summit slabs of Owen.

Looking across the glacier at the lower Koven Couloir. 

Looking up at the Koven's steep snow climbing. 

I strapped on my crampons and began front-pointing up the firm snow of the Koven Couloir. It had been a while since I had climbed snow this steep, and I was instantly reminded of just how much fun it is to simply go straight up something! I methodically cruised up the couloir, freed by the simplicity of the movement: kick-kick-crunch, kick-kick-crunch. 

Stoked on snow climbing!

After I topped out the couloir, I was on the East Ridge proper and had a spectacular view of the rest of the route. I heard some voices above me and was baffled because I hadn't seen any sign of anyone in front of me the entire day. Pulling over a 4th class bulge, I was finally able to see a group of 4 (two guides and two clients) descending the ridge of Owen. As I got closer, I realized that one of the Exum Guides was actually my old NOLS instructor, Brian Smith, the dude who pretty much taught me how to trad climb! We chatted for a while, and he was super psyched that I was still climbing. Him and his clients had bivvied near the summit and were going to spend the rest of the day descending. When I told them that I had just left my car about 3 hours ago, his clients exclaimed, "What!?! You're crazy!". I laughed and continued scrambling the rocky ridge that leads to the snow collar on Owen. 

A panorama of the East Ridge of Owen. The North Face of the Grand lurking to the south. 

After some tricky route-finding to get from the snow onto the final ridge, I was spit out of some chimneys right below the crux of the route. In front of me was several pitches of pure 5.6 friction slab. In lieu of a rope (and a partner), I decided to bring rock shoes and some chalk, which significantly helped give me peace of mind on this section. I pulled a few moves of balancey and delicate climbing and was suddenly there: on the summit of Owen. 

 

Standard-stoked-summit-selfie. 

I gazed around at all the new terrain I could see: the multi-summited Teewinot to the east and the ridge leading to the Grand to my south. It's such an aesthetic and logical desire to want to traverse the entire ridge. I started taking mental snapshots in preparation for an attempt (someday) of the Grand Traverse. 

Looking back down the route towards Teewinot. 

The North Ridge of the Grand Teton, in all it's glory. 

 I hung out on the summit for about 10 minutes and then started blitzing back down the ridge, hoping to move quickly and pass the guided party before the rock-fall-plagued ledges above the Koven. I skirted around them without incident and downclimbed the Koven back to the glacier, where I was reminded of the harsh indifference of these mountains. Life and death exist in a delicate balance in these places, and one can't help think about the fragility of our frail bodies in comparison to these hard, cold mountains. 

A dead raven, half buried in the glacier, slowly melting out of its icy grave. 

I tried not to take this as an omen and carried on with my descent. Interestingly enough, about 15 minutes later, as I scrambled down through some glacial debris near the toe of the moraine, a couch-sized boulder let loose underneath my feet and crashed down the side of the slope, obliterating everything in it's path. I was unscathed, but from then on, chose my footsteps very carefully. In the end, I made it back to the car without issue, and was stoked on another epic car-to-car adventure in the Tetons. 

The route, according to my GPS. 

The stats: 7,500 vert gain, 13.6 miles, 7 hours and 28 minutes. 

11mph?!? That must have been that brief sprint down the scree below the Teton Glacier. 

With Mt. Owen behind me, I began to think more and more about the Grand Traverse. The Tetons had thus far opened up their weaknesses and allowed me passage, but did I dare try to climb them all in a single enchainment? Could this budding romance evolve into loving, committed relationship?

The Summer Fling (part 2)

Looking back down the North Ridge. 

My second date with the Tetons involved the range's less-acclaimed peaks: The Middle and South Teton. Familiar with the trail from Lupine Meadows, I raced up the switchbacks, legs churning and heart beating with  the anticipation and desire to be back on the rocky ridges and snowy notches of these mountains. The North Ridge of the Middle Teton proved shorter and far more friendly than I had expected, with only a few moves of 5.6 climbing. 

Looking up the Black Dike notch. 

After navigating several gendarmes on the ridge, I was deposited into a notch created by an eroding black dike. From here, blocky 5.5 terrain led to the final summit ridge and my second major high-point in the region.

Summit of Middle Teton!

I snapped some photos, accidentally tagged the south summit in an attempt to find the descent, and eventually made my way to the southwest couloir where a lot of slippery scree sliding brought me to the saddle between Middle Teton and South Teton.

Looking north to the Grand from Middle Teton. 

A look at the route up South Teton. Basically, just a huge Class 2 slog. 

Looking back at the Middle Teton from South Teton. 

Standard-summit-stoked-selfie. 

A nice panorama, looking north, with Idaho on the left and Wyoming on the right!

Idaho's got some nice lakes.

On the summit of the South Teton, I watched two guys head east, embarking on the final leg of the Grand Traverse. Sitting there on the summit, I thought, "You've still got some energy left, maybe you should just, ya know, tag-a-along...". It took everything I had to resist the urge, but the seed was planted and my summertime fling was evolving into a bit of an obsession. The gears were turning: could I link-up all of these peaks? Could (and should) I go for the Grand Traverse!?!

I debated my next move and went out for a different kind of date. This time, without the Tetons to keep me company... 

Arguably the best Pad Thai in Wyoming? I'd say so. 

The Summer Fling (part 1)

It's a storyline as classic and timeless as a Disney movie: an out-of-towner spends their summer in a new place, meets new people, tries new things, and eventually falls in love, knowing that it will all come crashing to an end when the summer ends and its time to leave.

Well, you could say that I had fallen, hard, for the Tetons. 

After leaving my life in Colorado Springs, I set out for Wyoming, hoping that adventures in the alpine would help shake off the dust that had accumulated from sitting behind a desk for two years. At first, this place was reluctant to open up, keeping Vedauwoo enshrouded in fog for the entirety of my four day stay, as I climbed between the drizzles and hid in the dry nooks of stacked boulders. With little luck with the weather, and coming straight from Colorado, I thought that maybe I just wasn't Wyoming's type. Maybe be she'd prefer something a little more western? I remedied the situation by driving straight to Martindale's Western Store in Laramie, Wyoming and equipping myself with a proper piece of cowboy climbing attire: the Stetson.  With this new look, attitude, and general openness to the Western ethos, I voyaged north to Jackson: the land of tourists, traffic, tolls, but also, the Tetons.

Still smiling after realizing we had to bail to the Jackson Hole Emergency Room.

The obsession began with a casual re-acquaintance. It had been three years since I'd last had the chance to tangle with the Grand and that first date had not gone as planned, ending with the rapid descent of a toaster-sized block, and then the rapid descent of my climbing party (lowering my friend Leland and his injured arm one rappel at a time). This time, I had to be more tactful with my approach, knowing full well that this range didn't just give in easily to the average come-on. I'd go it alone at first, just to see what kind of mood the mountains were in, just to see how it feels.





After a lot of thinking, I finally went for the Owen-Spalding and threw my crampons and axe in my pack just in case the Grand decided to give me the cold shoulder and show her icy side. It's a good thing I did, I remember thinking, as I sat on a snowy ledge below the Owen Chimney trying to shake the screaming-barfies sensation out of my hands. The crux of the route was stemming around ice bulges in the chimney while dry tooling with my mountain axe... Despite these icy affronts, the clouds lifted and I was permitted passage to the summit via snow-splattered slabs. It was my first time truly standing on the highest point in the Tetons (we had bypassed the summit in "emergency-evac-WFR" mode on Attempt #1) and the spiney backbone of the range arced to the north and south.

||| IT WAS LOVE AT FIRST SITE |||

||| I INSTANTLY KNEW THAT I HAD TO CLIMB ALL OF THESE PEAKS |||

After that 1st date on the O-S, I have left Jackson several times to explore the surrounding ranges, looking for rocks to scale (an awesome 5-day trip to the Cirque of the Towers, some limestone pocket-pulling at Wild Iris and Sinks Canyon), but as soon as that skyline comes back into the view, I get butterflies in my stomach. When the light is just right, the sun twinkles off the Grand's upper snowfield and catches my eye like the wink from a middle school crush in the lunch-line. Suddenly, you blush, look away, and pretend like you weren't looking. But, inside, you know you can't wait to look back!